


Finding Our Way Out of the Darkness

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Stucky - Freeform, bucky barnes has been pining for steve half his life, bucky has to work through his demons, picks up after the Ant Man end credits, post Winter Soldier and Civil War, sam puts up with so much shit, same for steve, steve and bucky are gooey marshmallows on the inside, these two stubborn boys, this is so fluffy toward the end i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was making his way into the second room when he heard Sam call his name.</p><p>His stomach sank when he made his way into the last room at the back - no windows and hardly any light. Bucky. His arm in a vise, hair in his eyes...he was a welcome albeit painful sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Our Way Out of the Darkness

_Bucky_. The one true point in the life he was still adjusting to, the only thing that kept him anchored was the thought of finding him and keeping him safe.

Two years after his search had begun, Steve found himself staring at an aging gray slab building with three small windows in front and multiple side doors. Weeds and vines littered the ground as they broke through concrete sidewalks. Sam had followed him along - had been there from the very beginning and had the grace to never complain when each trail ran cold. He knew what it felt like to lose someone you cared about. He'd lost Riley not even five years prior and given the choice he'd search heaven and earth to bring him back if he could. 

Guns cocked and loaded, they made their way into the building. The front door had been partially closed but not locked.

"I'll take the front, you take the back," Steve said to Sam as they parted ways.

Each room was as empty as the one before but the electricity worked. The floors were stained with dark liquids and all the windows were reserved for the front. It almost resembled a testing facility that had been stripped of all of its equipment.

He was making his way into the second room when he heard Sam call his name.

His stomach sank when he made his way into the last room at the back - no windows and hardly any light. _Bucky. His arm in a vise, hair in his eyes...he was a welcome albeit painful sight._

"Should we call Tony?," Sam asked as he stared. 

"No, he doesn't need to know about this," Steve replied and clamped his teeth together. He and Tony weren't getting along lately and there was no way he'd put Bucky in Stark's care. He'd been through enough. Stark would want to mess with his arm.

Unsure what to do with himself, Steve just stood there with his heart racing as he stared at Bucky. _Two years._

'HELP ME' Bucky mouthed, his eyes pleading.

In one swoop Steve was gently tugging at his arm as Sam looked over the machine. It wouldn't budge.

"Sam...I can't...," he grunted as he tugged harder. Bucky kept his eyes on the floor, his other arm dangling at his side.

"I know someone who can help," Sam replied as he glanced over at a slumping Bucky.

"I'll stay here, you go get them," Steve didn't even bother asking who it was. He trusted Sam above all others.

"Are you gonna be okay here?," Sam questioned, a look of concern on his face as his eyes darted back and forth from Bucky to Steve.

"I'll be fine - just go get help and leave the backpacks here," he said as he stood up, having given up on the machine for the moment. Bucky needed water and food right now. It had been just himself and Sam for awhile now and they were always prepared for the worse. They kept two black backpacks stocked with non perishable food, water bottles, a first aid kit and spare clothes.

"I'll come back as soon as I can," Sam replied as he dropped both backpacks at Steve's feet. With that, he left.

 

Steve swallowed hard as he unpacked the bags and opened a bottle of water. He wanted to fall apart, to beg Bucky to remember him, to ask him a million questions but he held back. What Bucky needed right now was the best care he could offer.

"Bucky, can you drink? Need you to take a drink okay?," he kneeled down as if he were talking to a child and held out the water bottle.

"Can you hold it? I mean - I can...," he trailed off as Bucky took the drink from his hand and sputtered as he drank.

"Small sips," he said as he went back to the bags until he found a few snacks. Peanut butter crackers - Bucky's favorite when they'd lived in Brooklyn. He held no false hopes for Bucky being able to recall that particular snack but he grabbed it anyways.

Bucky handed him the water bottle back and for the first time he met Steve's eyes. Steve wanted to simultaneously murder whoever did this to him and cry at the same time. Dull blue eyes that took on a haunted look stared back at him. He clenched his jaw and turned away - the last thing he needed was Bucky thinking he was mad at  _him._

"I have some crackers here if you can eat. Peanut butter, your favori-," he caught himself midway and wished he could take the words back. Bucky blinked a few times and stared at the ground. Steve used to be able to read him like a book but now...? The only readable part of his face were his eyes. Even as a child he could never hide whatever emotion he was feeling because of them. 

Steve moved to press a cracker into Bucky's palm and he flinched as if Steve were going to hurt him and why not? Every time they'd saw one another there was only pain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to....I would never...,"  he held out the pack of crackers with a sigh as Bucky took them. He looked more like a wounded animal than a human being.

 

"Steve," Bucky said and it was nearly a whisper. Steve's heart caught in his throat as he dropped the water bottle he'd just been holding.

"Yes, I'm Steve," he reaffirmed as he picked up the bottle. The sound of it hitting the floor had caused Bucky to startle and made Steve feel like the biggest jerk.

"Do you know your name?," Steve asked as he sat on the floor - hoping to be less intimidating that way.

"You called me...Bucky," Bucky replied slowly as he chewed on a cracker.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. I've called you Bucky since we were kids," Steve smiled to himself.

Bucky didn't reply as he continued to eat the crackers, finished off the entire sleeve before Steve silently handed him another.

"Are you thirsty?," Steve asked with water bottle already in hand.

Bucky said nothing as he took it and drank quickly.

His face was covered in scruff, his long hair hung greasily in his face and his red shirt was tattered and worn in many places.

"I have a first aid kit, can I...? Can I check you for injuries?," Steve knew he was treading dangerous ground but he was worried and his fingers itched to touch Bucky - to make sure he was real.

Bucky nodded as Steve gathered the kit and approached him cautiously.

"I'm going to look at your arm first," he stated softly.

He pulled back the sleeve on Bucky's right arm and found a slightly newer deep gash along the inside of his arm. The wound was puckered and red and would likely set up infection if not treated. Steve knew the drill - Bucky would heal soon enough but for now he needed treatment.

He dipped a cotton ball into a bottle of water and gently dabbed at the wound. Bucky was watching his every move as if he were prepared to defend himself if need be.

"I'm going to put some cream on it so it doesn't get infected," Steve said to Bucky as he unscrewed the cap on the cream. Bucky simply eyed him but didn't protest.

"When we were kids we used to pull out the couch cushions and have sleep overs. We would stay up so late that my ma would come in and lecture us," Steve said with a small smile as he worked. He hadn't shared any personal stories of growing up with Bucky with anyone - not even Sam. It felt nice to speak the words out loud.

Bucky met his eyes and for a brief moment Steve could see the Bucky he once knew.

"Sarah," Bucky said quietly. What Steve didn't know was that he'd done nothing _but_ remember for two years, even moreso since he'd been trapped in this vice.

Steve looked up quickly as his eyes got watery. They stared at one another for a moment before Steve finished cleaning and dressing the wound.

 

Three hours passed as Steve weaved one story and another, the memories were pouring out of him and if Bucky minded, he didn't say so.

After awhile Steve's eyes were heavy with sleep as the sun was beginning to set but he didn't want to rest. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes he'd wake up alone in his own bed with Bucky still on the run. He couldn't handle it. Bucky, however, seemed to function on little to no sleep thanks to Hydra who had treated him like a machine rather than a human being. 

He eventually dozed off sitting up, his chin resting against his chest and Bucky just took him in. He was exactly how he'd remembered him in most pieces he could recall - most of those memories were darker and made him cringe. But the others had kept him going for weeks while he was trapped.

For the first time in decades, he allowed himself to feel hopeful. Help was coming.

 

**One year later**

"Steve we're out of that cereal that you li-," Sam broke off as he shuffled into the living room to find Bucky sleeping sitting up on the couch.

"What was that?," Steve rounded a corner as he towel dried his hair. 

"Shhhhh," Sam pointed in the direction of the couch as Steve peeked. Bucky looked conflicted even in his sleep. 

It had been one year since Scott Lang had helped them free Bucky from the vise with a promise to keep quiet about the entire thing. One year since they'd settled into a two bedroom house in the country. It was a tight squeeze but for the most part it was isolated - Sam had lived there for months following Riley's death, had closed himself off from the rest of the world. 

Progress was slow with Bucky in that he had to readjust to normal life and even the smallest sound made him resort to defense mode and he frequently had nightmares. He'd kept his long hair and tied it back, had put on a some much needed pounds and kept the scruff on his face though he shaved every so often. He had a fondness for dark shirts and pants so Sam had donned a hat and sunglasses and made the necessary purchases. 

Bucky jerked in his sleep and swung his left arm as if he were fighting an enemy that they couldn't see. He sat upright with wide eyes and chest heaving, took in his surroundings as well as Steve and Sam.

"You had a nightmare. You're safe here," Sam said in a soothing tone. He was used to dealing with soldiers who'd returned from war with PTSD. Bucky still had trust issues when it came to him but for the most part he didn't mind him.

Bucky sat back against the couch and rubbed his eyes, took deep breaths in and out. _Safe. Safe. Safe, it's okay._

 

"I was just about to make dinner, Buck. What do you want to eat?," asked Steve. Sometimes the best solution was a gentle distraction. 

Bucky eyed him for a moment as his mind played catch up. " 'mm not hungry," he replied before he went to his room and closed the door behind him. They'd decided right away that Steve would sleep on the couch, Sam would take one room and Bucky the other. It was important that Bucky should have _something_ to call his own.

"Leftover soup then?," Sam asked as he pulled the pot of soup from the fridge.

" 's fine with me," Steve shrugged and took Bucky's seat on the couch. Some days Bucky would confide in him what he remembered and it felt like steady progress but on the rougher days he would hole up in his room, just sitting in the darkness for hours without sleeping.

"He's gonna be okay, you know that. Right?," Sam said as he filled two bowls with soup and stuck them in the microwave.

Steve sighed and stared at the coffee table. "I know. He just needs time is all." It felt like time was all they had these days.

 

**Two years, six months later.**

Bucky had made stellar progress and had more good days than bad lately and when the bad got to be too much he would lose himself in nature. The small house sat on no less than twenty acres of land and had quite the collection of wildflowers. 

Steve was chopping potatoes and carrots at the table when Bucky sat down across from him. He still looked the same as he always had with his hair pulled back in a ponytail and dark clothing but his eyes were looking more and more like the Bucky Steve remembered.

"Can I help?," he asked.

"Knock yourself out," Steve replied as he pushed a pile of potatoes toward him. "I'll take the carrots, you take the potatoes."

Bucky cut and peeled faster than anyone Steve had ever saw and he was finished with the potatoes while Steve still had a bowl of carrots to work on.

"You wanna give me a hand with these carrots?," he lifted an eyebrow at Bucky who was already grabbing them.

"I found something today," Bucky said quietly as he chopped.

"What did you find?"

"Drawings," he stated without looking up. _Oh._ When Steve had nabbed his suit from the museum what seemed like ages ago, he had taken the small pile of drawings as well. They were his after all. Since then he'd kept them tucked in between books on the bookshelf.

Steve smiled and kept his eyes on the carrots. The drawings were of the apartment they'd shared in Brooklyn, their elderly neighbors, Bucky in their apartment as he was heating up yet another can of beans, a small composite of Bucky's jawline and lips, his bedhead in the morning, some of Peggy Carter, a few drawings of Steve's mother before she'd passed...but mostly they were of Bucky. He'd always passed it off (to himself at least - he'd kept them well hidden) as having no one else to draw since Bucky was the one person he saw the most but he knew that was a lie.

 

"Oh," was all he could say.

"I remember some of them. The lady in the red dress...Peggy. I met her once," Bucky sat his knife down beside of the bowl of carrots he'd sliced. Steve winced. It had been over 70 years and Peggy had lived a long and happy life but he still felt guilty about leaving her. It wasn't like he'd had a choice and to be honest he wasn't sure he'd wanted to live in a world where he'd been responsible for his best friends death.

Steve nodded his head and continued working on the carrots.

"Our apartment too. Brooklyn. The broken chair with the books under it," Bucky laughed to himself. The chair had been a source of arguments for too long as every time he'd get the books stacked just right, Steve would take one out to read. He'd flop down in it without thinking and would end up tumbling to the floor. He had many a bruise caused by that chair.

Steve laughed. "You're never going to let me live that one down are you?"

"Nope," Bucky smirked.

"I got some broth, not sure if it's the right one or not. There's too many to choose from but it said chicken and it's in a can so I bought three," Sam said in a rush as he sat a bag down on the table.

"Well the recipe called for turkey broth, not really sure what we're supposed to do with this," Steve deadpanned.

"I'm not going back to the store," Sam shook his head as he collapsed onto the couch.

Steve laughed and poured the potatoes and carrots into the pot as Bucky opened the broth. They had always worked well as a team only they were a different kind of team now. It was nice.

" _Not_ funny," Sam glared from the couch.

 

Later that night after they'd eaten and Sam had gone to bed early (citing the large crowd at the grocery store and the two hour shopping trip as exhausting) they sat on the couch as Bucky read a book (governmental defense linguistics) and Steve flipped through his old drawings. He took out a sheet of fresh paper (if you can call paper that old fresh) near the back and began to sketch as he glanced at Bucky. Bucky's jawline, his cheekbones, eyes that were softer now than they'd been when they'd found him, the pieces of hair that fell out of his ponytail, his lips. It wasn't the Bucky he'd grown up with but more of a sharper version that had been through a lot in his lifetime. 

"What are you sketching?," Bucky asked as he attempted to peek at Steve's paper.

"Absolutely nothing at all," Steve said and prided himself on having a mostly straight face.

"You're a terrible liar," Bucky replied as he craned his neck to see. He could see what looked like his lips, his hair...

He sat back down only to reach over and grab the sketch book when Steve wasn't expecting it.

"Give it back," Steve demanded and held out his hand. Bucky ignored him as he flipped through the pages to get to the newer drawing that Steve had been working on.

There he was in black and white, every detail even the scruff on his cheeks. From the look of things Steve hadn't drawn him since Brooklyn. Why now? he wondered.

He traced a finger over the drawings nose and hair, each cheekbone and after a moment he handed it back to Steve who was watching him curiously.

"These are good," Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and went back to his book.

 

"Why'd you draw me? Why not Sam?," he questioned over breakfast the next morning. Sam had already left for a run and for once Steve had decided to hang back to which Sam had called him a lazy lazy man that he could run laps around.

"I'm not sure," Steve lied. Why had he always drawn Bucky? It all came back to the same reason - he loved him, always had. But the scrawny Steve he used to do was too afraid to do anything about it and for that matter Bucky always seemed to have a date. It was obvious that the feeling wasn't mutual so he'd drawn Bucky when he was caught off guard, unsuspecting. A Bucky that was his alone, that no one else saw - a vulnerable side of him that he hid from everyone else. The side that enjoyed drawing just as much as Steve and spent too many hours at the gym trying to train him even when it was hopeless.

"You're lying again," Bucky pushed his cup and bowl out of the way and propped his elbows up on the table.

"You're around more often. Sam is usually gone running or hiking," he swirled a spoon around his cereal bowl as he spoke.

"Lying again," Bucky raised an eyebrow and poked him on the arm. "Truth now."

Steve felt his skin heating, his heart racing as he put the bowls in the sink and turned his back to Bucky.

"Steve," Bucky was right behind him without him noticing. Steve still hadn't adjusted to that.

Bucky put his arms on Steve's shoulders and turned him around with a bowl still in one hand.

"Because you're my friend," Steve swiped at the bowl once more with a rag.

"Try again and this time tell the truth," Bucky chided as he took the bowl and rag and sat it on the counter behind Steve.

He moved in closer and put both hands on Steve's upper arms, holding him in place.

"Because I've always...well you were my friend, _are_ my friend and maybe something...more," Steve might be physically different but on the inside he was still a bony kid from Brooklyn who was forever pining in silence over his best friend.

Bucky surprised him then by lifting Steve's chin and pressing a kiss first to his nose then each cheek, his forehead and finally his mouth. "You should've told me," he murmured against Steve's lips.

Steve hooked his fingers into Bucky's belt loops and pulled him in until they were as close as they could get. He gently pulled the hair tie out of Bucky's hair and threaded his fingers through it, pressed at the back of his neck until he was close enough to kiss. Bucky's eyes fluttered closed as Steve chose instead to pepper kisses along his neck and jawline. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," he whispered. Bucky responded by tightening the hold he had on Steve's shirt.

"Are you gonna kiss me or...?," he teased.

"I might," Steve smiled against Bucky's neck and worked his way back up to his mouth. Moaned as he pressed into the kiss only breaking to pull Bucky's shirt over his head.

 

"I noticed we were out of bottled water so I-," Sam stopped in his tracks when he saw what he'd walked into. It wasn't a surprise, honestly. What was surprising was how long it had taken them to get to this point.

"You know...I think the water can wait. It doesn't have to be put in the fridge right away. I need to go...do something anyway," Sam awkwardly rambled as he made his way out of the kitchen.

"Bedroom?," Bucky asked. He hadn't moved an inch.

The man sure knows how to make up for lost time, Steve thought to himself as he took Bucky's hand and they made their way to the bedroom.

 _This._ This was everything he'd ever dreamed of. He no longer needed to fight in battles and wars - not when what he was running from was right in front of him.

He could finally say that he'd found the something - or somebody who made him happy.

**Author's Note:**

> this is me wanting to wrap my sweet boys (all 3 of them) in a happy ending that involved them starting fresh like peggy suggested once upon a time. highly doubt the movies will end like this but I can dream.


End file.
